


A Good Match

by spocklets



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Angst, Dorian being introspective, F/M, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocklets/pseuds/spocklets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Stahl asks John out for drinks. Everyone is thrilled. Including Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Match

John is going on a date. And Dorian is okay with that. No, seriously, he really is. It’s about time John got out of his apartment for something other than work or noodles. He’s proud of his partner, despite how close John came to making a fool of himself in front of Detective Stahl when she stopped by his desk earlier.

 

“Beers? With you? Tonight?” (good thing he’s cute, Dorian thought)

 

“Yes, yes, and yes?” (bless her soul)

 

“He’ll pick you up at 6.” Dorian responded, when John didn’t seem able to pick his jaw up off the floor.

 

Valerie had smiled at him, winked at John, and walked away towards her desk to pack up for the night.

 

So, yes, Dorian is okay with it. John had read him the riot act for making his plans for him and in the same breath asked if Dorian thought he should wear his blue button down or his black sweater. The black sweater hugs John’s chest and arms in all the right places and makes his eyes stand out. He remembers John wore it the first time they had to stop to get coffee on the way to the precinct because the detective’s coffee maker had finally given up the ghost.  “It’s a sign that you drink too much coffee and the universe wants you to stop” Dorian had said. John laughed as he paid for his cup (large, no sugar, one cream, exactly 160 degrees).

 

Dorian suggests the blue button down.

 

\--

 

John less than gracefully bows out of their usual Thursday post-shift wind-down routine and tosses an awkward wave to Dorian as he walks out of the precinct and towards his car.  Dorian finishes the remainder of their paperwork and files it accordingly. He nods at Maldonado on his way out, but instead of taking the elevator all the way to the bottom floor where his charging pod waits in the MX facility, he gets off on the lab wing one floor above.  Dorian _hates_ the MX facility. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was miserable down there.  It’s always too warm in the pod room, a result of cramming so much technology together into one not particularly well ventilated space.  Not warm enough to cause any meltdowns, and thus not an issue for the resident MX models, and therefore not worth bringing up to maintenance.  The comfort of the one unit capable of understanding and experiencing the concept of comfort is not worth the trouble.

 

Rudy’s lab, however, is always a comfortable temperature.

 

“Catch!”

 

A leg lands in Dorian’s arms. 

 

“Rudy, we’ve talked about this.”

“Right, right, sorry, of course you don’t want to be holding spare bits, bit morbid for you, I suppose. Apologies, my friend.”

 

Dorian sets the leg gingerly on a work table not covered in schematics or spare parts and begins methodically uncovering a chair from underneath a pile of books and tablets.  He’s in the lab often enough that he had initially assumed his seat would remain free of clutter in between his frequent visits, but while Rudy Lom might be a seasoned technical whiz, he is not practiced in the ways of tidiness.  Chair successfully liberated from the clutter, Dorian sits down with a sigh.

 

“That’s a pretty heavy sigh for someone who doesn’t technically need to breath. Something on your mind?” Rudy asks, not looking up from the project he’s bent over.

 

“John is on a date tonight.”

 

“Is he really? Did he finally work up the nerve to ask Detective Stahl out for dinner?”

 

“Beers. And she did the asking.”

 

Rudy seems involved in whatever it is he’s working on so Dorian doesn’t press him for conversation.  It’s just after 7 pm.  John and Valerie are probably well into their date by now.  And Dorian is still okay with it.  John’s vital signs had shown him to be nervous but excited at the prospect of spending an evening out with Stahl, not that Dorian really needed a vitals scan to see the effect the female detective had on his partner.  Stahl is beautiful, intelligent, and brunette. All things John holds in high regard for a romantic partner.  If John is truly ready to get back into the dating game, Dorian thinks, Detective Stahl is an ideal prospect. 

 

“Sighs, long moments of silence, brooding, that’s not like you, Dorian.” Rudy remarks, pushing a pair of goggles up into his hair.

 

“I’m not brooding.”

 

“You are.”

 

“I am completely okay with this situation.  Stahl is a good match for John.” Dorian says as he fidgets with a thread in the cuff of his jacket.

 

“You’re a good match for him too, you know.”

 

Dorian stares at him, blue eyes wide.

 

“Er, I mean, as partners, obviously. You make a good crime fighting team. Couple of regular supermen, you two.”  Rudy elaborates, awkwardly shuffling about his work space.

 

Partners. Right. That’s what he and John are.  They ride in the same car, investigate cases together, and watch each other’s backs; all the things that partners do.  John doesn’t shoot adoring glances Dorian’s way when he thinks no one is looking.  Dorian doesn’t ask John out for beers and get to listen to his adorable tongue-tied response.  What Dorian does get to do is spend the evening among bits and pieces of disassembled bots (still an improvement over putting up with the MXs down in the charging facility) and be okay with that.  It’s fine.  He’s definitely okay with that.

 

“Listen, if you want, I’ve got a spare charging pod plugged up in the back.  It was in for repairs but I fixed it weeks ago, just haven’t gotten around to getting it moved back downstairs. I’ll be here all night anyway.” Rudy offers.

 

“I…may take you up on that offer. Thanks.” Dorian replies.  He feels fatigued.  A quick system check shows his power cells are low.  He can run for several days on a single charge, if he has to, but its something he thinks he could compare to a human trying to pull at least two all-nighters on a single cup of coffee. Decaf coffee. In other words, he really has no desire to push his limits if he doesn’t have to.  It strikes him as odd that he’s already feeling the heaviness in his extremities that usually pushes him to power down in a charging pod, despite the fact that he was at full power the night before.  All the energy he’s devoting to being completely one hundred percent okay with John’s personal life choices must be draining him more than he thought possible.

 

With a polite nod to Rudy, he stands up and makes his way to a quiet dark corner of the lab, where a freshly refurbished charging pod hums quietly to itself.  Dorian pulls off his jacket and folds it neatly.  He only has the one, after all, until he inevitably ruins it with bullet holes in the next shootout and is issued another one exactly like it.  He doesn’t technically need to remove his boots, but there’s something about wearing shoes to bed (charging pod, he corrects himself) that makes him uncomfortable.  He thinks about the facility a floor below him, where the MXs stand in their pods fully clothed and where Dorian usually stashes his folded jacket and boots behind his pod, even though he knows the other bots don’t have enough sense of self to think his actions are strange.  He’s just self-conscious sometimes, a human trait he finds annoying but is nonetheless thankful for.

 

His mind drifts back to John as he steps into the pod and attempts to find a comfortable standing position.  His partner is probably enjoying his evening with Detective Stahl, the two of them pleasantly buzzed with the alcohol they’ve likely consumed, and cheering on whatever sports team is being showcased in the bar they chose.  He thinks about the way the skin around John’s eyes crinkles when he really lets himself feel happy.  Out of nowhere he finds himself hoping John has many wrinkles around his eyes when he’s old and grey.  He begins to hope that Valerie appreciates those little folds of skin as much as he does (his own synthetic skin will never permanently crease) before he realizes that, no, he really kind of hopes she doesn’t.

 

He hopes she has a fun and relaxing night but realizes that she just doesn’t see a spark between herself and John.  He hopes she insists on paying her half of the tab at the end of night and paying her own way home in their shared taxi.  He hopes she lets John down easy when he walks her to the door of her apartment building and he clumsily leans in for a kiss goodnight.  He hopes John pretends to be a lot more disappointed than he actually is.

 

Dorian initiates the hibernation protocol he uses for charging sessions and waits patiently as his systems settle into power save modes one at a time.  It’s as close to experiencing the sensation of falling asleep as he can manage, although he really can’t bring himself to describe the dreamless black void he endures every charge session as “sleep”.  In the few seconds he has left before his central processor cuts off his stream of consciousness for the duration of the session, he allows himself to be honest for the first time all day. 

 

John went on a date today.  But Dorian is not okay with it.  Not really.

 

**[DRN Unit 1214-003 Power Save Mode Active – Duration Of Recharge Session: 11:59 Hours]**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This took a lot longer to write than I anticipated. I wasn't planning on writing something this angsty without a fluffy fix-it ending, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans of cops and androids and sleep deprived writers. In other news, finals are over! /tosses confetti
> 
> I want to thank asilverknight for being a wonderful cheerleader as I slowly get back into the fic writing game and for pointing out the places where this story made absolutely no sense because I, for some reason, decided to try and write part of it at 2 am.


End file.
